"My name is Dahlia Doom. I am, in fact, a Vampiress," the cool, soothing voice of a tall, pale woman drifted through the large conference room. A smile rest freshly on her red lips. She was unphased by the statement.
The room's other occupants, on the other hand, were stunned speechless. The group of stiff suits and briefcases sat on all sides of the table opposite of Dahlia and her big announcement.
There the words lay: heavy, though hazy, on the fine wood grain of the long table. They weighed down each and every member in the room. Dahlia, of course, wen unaffected. She had just revealed a great truth to her board of advisors and company heads, even her trusted agent, Gunne, who had been with her for her entire career. A truth they thought impossible.
While her crystal blue eyes, which were the only piece of her entire body that seemed out of place, scanned the room anxiously, an awkward laughter burst out from her record label's CEO.
"Atta' girl! Keeping to her image, even in front of us!" His voice was loud, though firm and deep, and his laughter was hearty. The white of his typical, personalized, tailored suit caught the glint of the artificial lighting in a way that always made Dahlia a little queasy. "Come now, girl, you don't need to tell us that! We get it!" An uneasy wink crinkled his crow's feet even more. Dahlia cringed.
"But, sir..."
"No, no, no. We understand just fine! You're a Gothic princess! Of course people will think you're a bloodsucker!" He leaned over the table, staring Dahlia straight in the face, "But, too bad for them, they were wiped out years ago!" Another laugh, and he leaned back.
A ghoistly hand, covered in thick black fabric and red, buttoned Victorian glovelettes, placed itself daintly on an equally pale forehead, strands of rich black hair pressing between the two. Dahlia shook her head. They didn't understand. They never would.
The room's other occupants, on the other hand, were stunned speechless. The group of stiff suits and briefcases sat on all sides of the table opposite of Dahlia and her big announcement.
There the words lay: heavy, though hazy, on the fine wood grain of the long table. They weighed down each and every member in the room. Dahlia, of course, wen unaffected. She had just revealed a great truth to her board of advisors and company heads, even her trusted agent, Gunne, who had been with her for her entire career. A truth they thought impossible.
While her crystal blue eyes, which were the only piece of her entire body that seemed out of place, scanned the room anxiously, an awkward laughter burst out from her record label's CEO.
"Atta' girl! Keeping to her image, even in front of us!" His voice was loud, though firm and deep, and his laughter was hearty. The white of his typical, personalized, tailored suit caught the glint of the artificial lighting in a way that always made Dahlia a little queasy. "Come now, girl, you don't need to tell us that! We get it!" An uneasy wink crinkled his crow's feet even more. Dahlia cringed.
"But, sir..."
"No, no, no. We understand just fine! You're a Gothic princess! Of course people will think you're a bloodsucker!" He leaned over the table, staring Dahlia straight in the face, "But, too bad for them, they were wiped out years ago!" Another laugh, and he leaned back.
A ghoistly hand, covered in thick black fabric and red, buttoned Victorian glovelettes, placed itself daintly on an equally pale forehead, strands of rich black hair pressing between the two. Dahlia shook her head. They didn't understand. They never would.
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